


bar rescue

by coffeesuperhero



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-05-08 14:47:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5501663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coffeesuperhero/pseuds/coffeesuperhero
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki asks Sif for a favor, but will she get more than she bargained for?</p>
            </blockquote>





	bar rescue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NoRationalThoughtRequired](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoRationalThoughtRequired/gifts).



Sif had never really intended the bartending to be a full time gig, really. But what had started in college as a way to make up part of her tuition money on the weekends had turned into a fairly lucrative job after graduation, so instead of going on to join the same 9-5 daily grind that so many of her classmates followed, Sif could be found slinging drinks until the wee hours of the morning at _Mjolnir_ , an upscale bar and lounge. The money was good-- the bar sat next to a series of high rise office buildings filled with workaholic investment bankers and corporate attorneys-- and the hours left her plenty of daylight in her days off to hit the gym or see friends. And, too, sometimes those friends frequent the bar, which is how she ended up sitting across a bartop from her childhood friend, Loki, several nights a week. 

She'd grown up with Loki and his older brother, Thor, and during their youth the three of them had been inseparable. Sif met them at a strange time in her life-- her parents had passed away suddenly, and she'd been unexpectedly adopted by friends of her mother's. In the space of a week, Sif had gone from being the only child of two quiet parents to being the seventh child of Volstagg and Gudrunn, loud, boisterous people who loved her dearly, but could not make up for her loss. Before she met the Odinsons, she was angry and bitter, starting fights in her first-grade class and trying not to overhear Volstagg's whispered conversations with her teachers about her _behavioral problems_. 

But then she found Loki, and through him, Thor, and her life slowly began to realign itself. They took martial arts classes together, they studied together, and later, in their adolescence, they formed an awkward and ill-timed love triangle, Sif falling in and out of love with one or both of them as they did the same for her, though of course never at the same time, never enough to really try anything. The closest they ever came was one night after finals, when she and Loki had drunkenly made out in the back of her old Jeep and then, once sober, had proceeded to never speak of the event, ever again. She doesn't think he's _embarrassed_ , but then, who knows what passes for emotion in that brain of his? 

He's all grown up now, a corporate lawyer with the same quick wit and ill temper that still makes her laugh until her sides ache, just like he did when they were kids. Occasionally, though, he looks at her over the rim of his glass and she feels it again, an old itch she still can't scratch, but then he moves and like a tray of shots ordered by frat boys, the feeling is gone as quickly as it came. 

Tonight he's in a particularly dour mood, the kind that says he's been talking to his father, and with the holidays approaching, she's not at all surprised. That Loki manages to get along with Thor as well as he does is some kind of perpetual holiday miracle, but for and Odin to be on the same page, they would need to move to some kind of alternate reality where neither father nor son was a stubborn jackass. 

Usually, he'll talk to her about it, in that snide, sly way that he has where he's not really talking about it at all. She's never really been sure what she did to earn his trust, but she's had it for a long time, and she knows he talks to her when he won't talk to anyone else. Maybe, at least when it comes to family troubles, he knows she understands what it feels like to be the odd person out, never sure you're where you belong. Tonight, though, trust or no, he isn't talking. Tonight, he's shredding coasters faster than she can set them underneath his glasses, and once the usual crowd clears out and she's not watering a bar full of thirsty suits, she turns her attention back to Loki. 

"Look, not to sound like the stereotypical bartender you blab all your problems to while crying into your beer," she began, watching him shred yet another coaster, the third victim thus far this evening to his melancholy. 

"Please, give me a little credit," he scoffed, but he continued to take out his frustrations on the coaster, so she cleared her throat, slid his drink a little farther from his hands and a little closer to her well, and waited. 

"So?" 

"It's nothing." Shred, shred, shred. Scraps of coaster now litter the bartop. "The annual family holiday soiree is looming, that's all. A seasonal irritation, nothing more." 

"Oh, come on. I always enjoyed the yearly opportunity to hear Thor drunkenly crooning Jingle Bell Rock," she teased. 

"Truly, it is the reason for the season," Loki drawled. He stabbed a finger in her direction. "And I would like to point out that you've not attended the festivities in several years to hear this melodious masterpiece in person." 

"I've been picking up shifts so the other bartenders can get some family time," Sif shrugged. 

"Yes, well, this year, I implore you to change your plans. Mother would dearly love to see you." 

"Just Frigga?" 

"Well, _I_ see you quite frequently, so of course I don't care," he protested, and she rolled her eyes. "I'm sure _Thor_ cares. I'm not sure of anything regarding Father and feelings, mostly that he has any." 

"Sure," she said, shaking her head. 

"So you'll come, then?" 

"When did I say that?," she laughed, but he already knew it was a done deal. "I'll see you tomorrow." 

+

Loki seemed unusually fidgety when she arrived at his parents' house, but she wasn't able to pull him away to ask about it before Frigga swept into the room and opened her arms to Sif, who returned the hug she was offered. 

"It is so wonderful to see you," Frigga said, pulling away to look at Sif. "You've been absent from this house too long, young lady." 

"I've been busy," Sif mumbled, a poor excuse, but Frigga just smiled and reached for Sif's hand and then Loki's, grasping Sif's hand in one of hers and Loki's in the other. 

"So I hear," Frigga said, eyes twinkling. "Sif, you know you've always been family, but this is just so wonderful. I'm so happy for you both." 

"Yes," Sif said, blinking slowly as she looked over at Loki, who decidedly avoided her gaze. "We're both...doing very well." 

"Of course," Frigga said, still clasping both their hands. Sif was beginning to wonder if Frigga would ever let go, but then, mercifully, the doorbell chimed and Frigga's smile only intensified as she said, "Oh, that must be Thor and Jane!," and went to get the door. 

"Loki," Sif said, through clenched teeth, "why does your mother seem to be under the impression that we're _together_?" 

"No idea," he said, entirely too blithe. When he made to step away, she gripped his arm and stepped firmly on his foot, rooting him to the spot. She leaned closer-- probably closer than absolutely necessary, but his cologne, as it turned out, smelled really nice-- and spoke quietly in his ear. 

"I'm going to ask you again. Why does your mother think we're together?" 

"Release my foot, woman, for fuck's sake, that's quality leather you're ruining-- fuck, fine, yes, fuck, I may have indicated--" Sif increased her pressure on his foot, and Loki began to talk faster. " _thatwewereengaged_." 

"ENGAGED?!" 

"Keep your voice down," he hissed, waving his hands. Thor's voice, along with Frigga's, was growing closer, and Loki pointed at the covered porch and patio outside the nearby French doors. "Can we discuss this outside?" 

"I don't think you're in much of a position to be asking me to do anything," she grumbled. 

"Nevertheless," he said, and with a sigh as heavy as the world, she released his foot and his arm. 

"Lead the way," she said. Once they were huddled on the patio, door firmly closed behind them, she faced him again. "So?" 

"Fine. Here is my problem, Sif. Every year for the past five, there's been someone here that Mother foists upon me in an effort to eventually extract _grandchildren_ from me," he confessed, shuddering at the very thought. "The first year it was a young woman she knew from some of her philanthropic pursuits, a horribly saccharine woman with more money than sense. The year after that, a scientist who only wanted to discuss gamma radiation. The year after that, an engineer who worked with Father, I forget the man's name. It's been exhausting." 

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Loki? How is this situation _less_ exhausting than simply telling your mother not to set you up with people?" 

"This situation wouldn't be nearly as exhausting if you weren't making such a fuss," he said snippily, and that was enough for Sif. 

"Listen here, you gaslighting motherfucker," she said, jabbing her finger into the muscles of his upper arm, "I have known you far too long for you to pull that shit with me. _You_ lied, _you_ lured me here, _you_ made up a fake relationship that involves MARRIAGE, and now you're out here in the freezing cold confessing your sins and hoping I'll play along instead of punching you in your stupid face. Doesn't that about sum up this _exhausting_ situation that you've gotten us into?" 

"More or less," he said, plucking at invisible lint on his suit jacket before adding, "but my face isn't _stupid_." 

Sif watched him for a long moment, the way his fingers adjusted his jacket and smoothed away wrinkles that weren't there. It occurred to her, suddenly, that he was taking her denial of this fictional relationship _personally_. 

"Oh for the love of-- _you_ dragged me into this, you-- you-- you _charlatan_ , and it's _your_ feelings that are hurt? You are really a piece of fucking work, you know that?" 

"My _feelings_ aren't hurt," he insisted. "It's _one_ evening, Sif. Look, I'll make it up to you." 

"I don't see how you possibly could," she grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. "Why couldn't you have told me about this last night?" 

"Well, that's simple: I knew you wouldn't come if I did." 

"You're unbelievable," she sighed.

"And yet, here you are," he said. 

"Fine. For the sake of our _longstanding friendship_ , which you have _completely exploited_ tonight for your own nefarious purposes, I will play along, although I have no idea how I'm supposed to convince your mother that I'm your fiancee without a-- oh, you're joking," she exclaimed, as Loki produced a small box from his coat pocket. He at least had the grace to look moderately sheepish as he did so. 

"Sif, if I'm going to tell a lie this large, I'm going to come _prepared_ ," he said, clearly offended that she would have assumed otherwise. 

"Of course," she sighed, and took the ring box from him. Inside sat a truly stunning engagement ring; a beautifully cut diamond shimmered like a star in the center of the platinum band, flanked by a swirling line of emeralds and rubies. "I'm supposed to wear this? It's worth more than my life." 

"Nonsense. It, like you, is priceless," he said, sounding unusually and totally serious. When she looked at him sharply, all surprise and mistrust, he quickly added, "I'm just playing the part, you understand." 

"Right," she said, brushing aside an odd feeling of disappointment. Of course he wasn't being serious, and of course she shouldn't care if he was. She took a breath, reminding herself that this, like most other things in his life, was All About Loki, not anyone else, then held up the ring box. "I hope this fits, or your story's in trouble." 

"I'm sure it will," he said, strangely confident, and sure enough, when she gingerly plucked the ring from its box and slid it onto her finger, it fit perfectly. 

"Okay," she said, hooking her arm through his, "let's go be in love. Or whatever." 

"Do try to tamp down your enthusiasm," he said, but he escorted her through the doors anyway. 

\+ 

They were, of course, seated next to one another and dinner, and then again on the couch for dessert and coffee and stories about where everyone has been and what they've been up to. She made certain to lean into Loki's side as he slipped his arm around her shoulders, his fingers casually playing with loose strands of her hair. She wasn't sure what she had expected. Awkwardness, certainly, but not this, whatever it was. It felt almost _comfortable_ , natural, sitting here like this, and the easiness of all of it only brought with it questions she had no idea how to answer. Finally, after one too many instances of his thigh pressed up against hers, and one too many corresponding stray thoughts of what they'd probably be doing later if they were _really_ together, she had had enough. 

"Does anybody want some drinks?" she offered, gesturing towards the bar in the other room, desperate for a distraction from her confusion. "I can make some drinks." 

"Darling, you don't need to work while you're here," Frigga said, but Sif shook her head. 

"It's no problem at all," she insisted, nearly leaping from her seat and inwardly cursing that any part of her missed Loki's warmth at her side as she stood. 

At the bar, she surveyed the potential ingredients, feeling a sense of peace descend as she gathered glasses and equipment. She did not think about Loki as she sliced limes. She did not think about Loki as she muddled them with some basil. She resolutely banished the thought of the lingering warmth of his hand against hers as she combined the muddled fruit and herbs with gin. She _did_ perhaps think about her unexpected and unwelcome sexual frustration as she shook the ingredients together, but surely that was only devotion to good mixology and nothing more. 

"Your Father and I won't be able to attend, he's had something come up," Frigga was saying, as Sif came back in with drinks. When she took the drink Sif offered her, she looked up, smiling broadly. "Of course, why didn't I think of this before? The two of you should take our tickets!"

"Sif isn't terribly interested in the symphony," Loki said immediately, before Sif could spill gin all over his mother.

"Right," she agreed automatically. "I'm...more of a rock and roll girl." 

"Nonsense!" Frigga exclaimed. "Everyone loves the symphony." When Sif and Loki opened their mouths to protest, Frigga waved their unspoken complaints away with a swish of her well-manicured hand. 

"It's settled," she said, and Sif knew that tone quite well. It was the same verbal steel that used to keep Sif, Thor, and Loki in line as children, and it has not dulled with age: she still wanted to stand up a little straighter, just hearing it. 

"Yes ma'am," they said, in unison, and that was that. 

Shit. 

\+ 

For two days, Sif labored in vain to pick up the Tuesday evening shift that would necessitate her absence from the symphony, but to no avail. 

"I already traded shifts with Darcy so I could work that night instead of Saturday," Steve said. 

"Sorry, Sif, no can do," Fandral said. "Tuesday's the holiday party for that architectural group, and you _know_ how the artistic ladies love me. I make bank at that party every year." 

Finally, after working her way through everyone in the bar, she gave up. 

_I guess I'm still coming tonight_ , she texted. _When should I be ready?_

 _Love the enthusiasm_ , came the reply. _6:30. Dinner first. Wear something nice._

"Great," she muttered. Of course there will be dinner first, and drinks, and conversation, 

_Wear something nice_ , he said. Well, fuck him. It would serve him right if she turned up in work jeans and a t-shirt, but she already knew she wouldn't. The remembered warmth of him pressed against her side last night didn't magically disappear overnight, and neither did the strange feelings that accompanied it. She really thought she had gotten over this years ago, but apparently all she needed was half an hour snuggled against him for her body-- and her heart-- to dredge all of it up again. 

"Fuck," she sighed, and opened up her closet. 

She was ready with only a few minutes to spare, her usual efficiency stymied by a host of unwelcome _feelings_. She found that she wanted to _impress_ him, so she spent time on her hair and makeup and clothing that she normally wouldn't have, and she was just finishing her lipstick when her doorbell rang. 

"Hey," she said, opening the door, resolutely _not_ looking him up and down or noticing how perfectly the tailored lines of his suit accentuated his leanly muscled frame. 

Well. Maybe her eyes lingered a little bit here and there, but she would swear his did the same. 

"That's a nice dress," he said, and was that the slightest hint of a tremor in his voice? She brushed away the thought as she turned to grab her clutch and coat. 

"Let's do this," she said, and he held out his arm. 

"Shall we?" 

\+ 

Dinner turned out to be fairly pleasant. Thor and his long-time girlfriend, Jane, were as funny and sweet together as she would have expected, and it was actually nice for the four of them to sit and talk like old friends. The symphony, however, was, as Sif anticipated, a bit dull-- she really was a bigger fan of rock, that had not been a lie. Every so often, Loki's hand would brush against hers and she could feel her cheeks warming and her breath speed up, until finally, just as the pace of the music on stage reached a particularly frantic tempo, his fingers really did close around her own. 

"Thor was looking," he whispered in her ear, and her heart sank as she nodded her understanding. 

Even so, she did not relinquish his hand until well after the performance had ended. She knew as she sat there, threading her fingers through his and squeezing gently, that there was no running from this. She would just have to face it head on, somehow. Her heart wanted what it wanted, and apparently, all this time, it had been quietly loving the person next to her, just waiting for her to wake up and notice. 

As the four of them joined the crowd of people exiting the concert, Sif pondered how best to take this particular bull by the horns. 

_I guess I'm really in love with you, surprise!_ didn't really seem to fit the bill. Neither did, _You asshole, just take me home, already_. 

She was contemplating just grabbing him and kissing him, but every time she was on the verge of taking the lapels of suit in her hands and tugging him forward, something would interrupt her plan: Thor turned around to tell a joke, another person in the crowd tripped and stumbled into her, and on and on. Finally, when they were outside and waiting for their cars to be brought around, she thought she had a moment-- Jane was on her cell, and Thor was talking to one of the people at the valet stand. But just as she stepped over, Thor once again interrupted. 

"I didn't get a chance to say this last night," Thor says, clapping Loki on the back and Sif on the shoulder, "but I'm happy you two finally made it happen." 

"Thor," Loki said, but Thor kept going. 

"You can't expect me to keep quiet forever, Loki. He's been in love with you since we were children," Thor laughed. He looked at Sif and winked. "He made me swear on my life not to tell you. But I think that secret is out now. See, brother? I told you it would all work out in the end." 

"Right," Sif managed to say, and Thor just grinned at them both as he ran to catch up to Jane, leaving Sif and Loki behind in an awkwardness that seemed like it might stretch out for an eternity. 

"Loki, I--" Sif said finally, putting her hand on Loki's arm, but he brushed her aside before she could tell him that it was all right, that she, too, had been carrying the burden of these feelings around for too long. 

"You needn't say anything, Sif," he said stiffly. "You did your part, and I do appreciate it. Thor doesn't know what he's talking about, per usual. A childhood infatuation, nothing more."

"I see," she said, hoping he couldn't tell how much his words had stung. At least, she told herself firmly, she had an answer: none of this was anything he wanted to be real. She cleared her throat and pulled her coat a little tighter. "Well, good night." 

"You don't want me to drive you?" 

"I'll walk," she said, ignoring the way he looked at her heels and raised his eyebrows. "Thanks." 

+

To her great relief, Loki did not show his face at the bar for the remainder of the week. She spent those days ignoring her wounded pride and hurt feelings by picking up as many extra shifts as she could. It helped, a little. 

But then, on Saturday night when she arrived for her fourth extra shift of the week, her manager called her over. 

"Hey, sorry for the late notice, but we actually booked a special event in the private lounge tonight, and this morning they called to request you specifically," he said. 

"Oh?" 

"Yeah, I guess you've got some fans. It's a law firm's holiday party," he said, and Sif inhaled sharply as he continued, "Walters, Stark, & Odinson. Sif? You okay?" 

"Fine," she said, faking a smile. "Just fine."   
She resolutely did not think about Loki as she set up her station, at least until it was time to prep fruit, but perhaps she thought about the situation a little bit as she stabbed a knife into an orange and a series of lemons and limes. By the time the party guests began to arrive, she had mentally decided that she could buy herself a new boxing bag and gloves _only if_ she managed to get through this party without _feelings_ getting in the way. 

Fortunately, though this was indeed Loki's firm, he did not make an appearance until the party had ended and all the other guests had gone. 

"I told you I'd pay you back," he said, startling her as she was counting up her tips. 

"What?" 

"Our firm's attorneys tip well, do they not?" 

"They do," Sif acknowledged, silently willing him to go away, while simultaneously wishing for him to stay. He lingered, making half of her heart happy, anyway. 

"I suppose we do have a small matter of some unfinished business," he said finally, and she looked up, suspicious. 

"Do we?" 

He cleared his throat. "The ring," he said, nodding at her hand. 

She looked down, and realized, embarrassed, that she had been wearing the damn thing for days and had forgotten to take it off. "Fuck," she swore. "Sorry." 

"I-- keep it," he said. "I bought it for you." 

"You-- wait, what?" She dropped the jigger she was holding and didn't even bother to pick it up. 

"You may as well know," he continued. "I'm sure by now you know everything, thanks to my idiot brother." 

"You said that was a _childhood infatuation_ ," she protested. "Why would you lie?" 

"It's what I do," he shrugged, and she was sorely tempted to throw ice at him. 

"Am I supposed to believe you now, or...?" 

"Possibly neither," he said. The urge to throw the ice returned, but then she really began to look at him-- the dark circles under his eyes, the slightly wrinkled shirt-- and she started to wonder if maybe he'd been losing sleep over what had happened the other night, not because he was embarrassed that it wasn't true, but because it _was_. Maybe he had been surprised by his own feelings just like she had. 

"You're an idiot," she said, "but it's okay, because so am I." 

"What?" 

Before he could say anything else, or anyone else could interrupt again, she leaned across the bar, grabbed his suit, and pulled him in for a kiss that felt just as natural and comfortable and _right_ as she had hoped it would. 

"Oh," he said, when they finally broke apart. "Yes."

"Maybe next time you should try asking me out for real," she suggested. "And this time it can't be like that night after finals, where we just forget about it." 

"I have never forgotten that," he said, and that definitely sounded like the truth. 

"Neither have I," she said, reaching for his hand. 

"Well then," he said, kissing her again, "let's make some new memories."


End file.
